I AIn't No Prophet
by Kaien Crosszeria
Summary: A duffel bag. A leather jacket. A guitar case. And nothing to do. Bob Dylan style Tsukune. Tsukune/Akuha
1. Chapter 1

A/N: Now, this is going to be a pretty long author's note, so stay with me. Or don't. It's a free world. First, to fans of my first (and kind of crappy) fanfic, that story is probably dead in the water. I really, really doubt I'll ever write for that story again. Sorry. Also, for Dylan fans (which I hope is most of you), Tsukune will have events such as the Electric Shift and the motorbike crash, but they won't explicitly be the same. And although Tsukune is mostly Dylan, I'll be using a lot early music from a small indie band called Of Montreal, and other acoustic indie groups. You'll see why eventually. Also this story is a slow burn for a few things including the Tsukune and Akua pairing. Especially the pairing. I want Tsukune to experience the rock n' roll life style for a bit. Probably up until the "crash" if you get my meaning. Also, Moka fans, you won't be seeing much of her. The way I've written the story, Moka won't have much interaction with him. She will be there, but she'll be a side character.

As for character appearances, imagine Tsukune to look like Dylan in 1965.

Hope you enjoy the story you beautiful bastards.

 **Disclaimer**

I Kaien Crosszeria, do not, in any way, shape, or form, own any rights, properties or royalties of Bob Dylan, Of Montreal, or Rosario + Vampire. All rights, properties, or royalties belong to their respective owners. This Fanfiction may also contain typographical errors.

Chapter 1: Arrival

Morning light pierced the windows of the bus, and coated the floor in it's ethereal shine. The bus, creaking with age and abuse, rolled along, the only vehicle on the road at that current time. Inside sat only two people. The man at the wheel, and a figure sat in the back, covered in a leather jacket, surrounded by only a large leather duffel bag and a guitar case. The figure had curly hair. His angular face had a slight touch of stubble, and his eyes were a clear blue. He sat, bouncing his foot and checking his watch. His face, handsome when relaxed, was currently contorted into a slight scowl.

"Excuse me, driver, how long 'till Youkai Academy?" said the young man, his voice, rough, but with a touch of honey, resounded through the bus.

"An hour minimum kid." the driver responded. "I'd get comfortable if I were you."

The youth sighed. 'An hour _minimum_? What to do… My guitar might need a tune.' he thought. He reached for his guitar case. Travel stickers were plastered on both sides of the case, along with the odd phone number below a woman's name. He opened the clasps and retrieved his guitar. The instrument was a worn old acoustic. The words _Long Live_ _Tsukune Aono_ _!_ were scratched into the back. The newly named Tsukune slowly strummed the guitar, letting every string ring out. 'E's slightly too high, and A is too low… Jesus, that B is way too high!'

Halfway through the journey, Tsukune stowed his guitar away, and reached down, grabbed his duffel bag and rifled through it, before pulling out a battered old Walkman and a box. He opened the box and pulled out a tape labelled "Dust Bowl Ballads." Soon after pressing play, Tsukune lost himself in Woody Guthrie's politically charged lyrics, backed by his simple acoustic guitar, never an ill-fitting chord, or a banal verse. It seemed almost like five minutes before the bus suddenly stopped. Tsukune begrudgingly removed his headphones and gathered his belongings.

He stepped off the bus. "I'd be careful kid. Youkai Academy's a _scary_ place!" Tsukune looked around. The area around the bus stop looked dead. The grass was a particularly dull grey. Stretching for miles from the cliff was a ruby red sea, and the fringes of the lifeless little field were accosted by dead and crooked trees. A scarecrow had the sign _Youkai Academy_ nailed to it. All in all, it looked like the setting of an unoriginal horror film. "I've seen worse." replied Tsukune. The driver just chuckled. "I like you kid. Maybe you'll make it through."

"Thanks for the ride."Tsukune tossed him 500 yen and was just about to start on the path, before he suddenly turned and asked, "What's the quickest way to get to the Academy? I'm running a little late." "Cut through the forest. The path winds a bit." responded the driver. Nodding his thanks, Tsukune headed towards the edge of the forest, turned back one last time, and vanished into the dead woods.

Good luck kid. Though I don't know if you'll need it..." the bus driver muttered, before starting the bus again.

 _-Long Live Tsukune Aono-_

The forest, if not alive, was certainly peaceful. The early morning mist, while nowhere near a strong as it had been a few hours ago, still was in the air, creating an enveloping chill that was expected of early spring. The sun, still slightly low in the sky, made the trees cast long shadows on the ground.

Tsukune trudged through the forest, enjoying the scenery. The forest felt like a picturesque paradise, a welcoming place, where the sun shone and the ground smelt of pine and oddly enough, sandalwood. Feeling tired, he sat down and rested his legs. He checked his watch. 'I've got plenty of time.' he thought. He got out a notebook and a pencil. 'Now to writing…'

 _-And Oddly Enough, Sandalwood-_

Tsukune arrived in the assembly hall in the nick of time. He set his duffel bag and guitar case next to him, and sat down. The place was packed with all kinds of students. Tall, short, wide, thin, lanky, stocky… All walks of life had gathered here. Upon closer inspection, the hall, was mostly made of wood, with curtains of velvet and a ceiling of stone or concrete. A standard gathering place.

The speech was pretty simple. The standard talk of grades, classes and expectations. Nothing out of the ordinary. He checked the class board. 'Class 3-C with… Sensei Nekonome.' He set off to the classroom.

 _-All Walks of Life had Gathered Here-_

Tsukune had gotten slightly confused. He never realized that he had to go to the dorms first, and thus had brought his bags with him. Miss Nekonome looked at him oddly.

"Aono-san, why do you have your bags with you?" she asked. Tsukune replied, "I'm wondering that myself, sensei." a slightly sheepish look on his face.

"Well, just put them beside your desk. You only have two pieces of luggage so it doesn't really matter." said Nekonome-sensei. Tsukune nodded his reply, and moved to his seat near the back of the class.

Just as he settled, a beautiful pink-haired girl ran into the classroom. She had ethereal alabaster skin, emerald eyes, and a heart-shaped face. Although her uniform obscured much of her body, you could still tell her hourglass figure, and as she smiled, she inadvertently cast a spell on the male population of the class. Every boy swooned for her, whispers breaking out among the class. Every boy except Tsukune, that is.

'Bit too tame for my tastes.' he thought. 'She's pretty, but in too much of a sugary way. I like my gall's a bit more rough round the edges.' His face however, soon slightly twisted in disgust at what he heard his fellow males say about her. 'Lecherous pricks. Do you really think saying all this crap in front of her is going to make her love you? Idiots.' he thought angrily.

"Okay Akashiya-san, you'll be sitting there by the window, in front of Aono-san." Nekonome-sensei said.

The classroom eventually settled down. Nekonome-sensei, now standing in front of the class, sprung into her speech, optimistic and content demeanour in full force. "Okay class, welcome to your first year at Youkai Academy! Now all the basic rules and regulations were presented in the briefing this morning. But a few things were missed and left to us homeroom teachers to tell you. Now as you all know, this is a school made by monsters, for monsters!"

'Wait, _what?'_ was the predominant thought running through Tsukune's head at that moment.

"Now, since humans currently are in charge of the world, us monsters must stay in hiding! This school was made to teach young monsters to co-exist with humans. But there are rules! First; No revealing your race! Second; You must stay in human form at all times! Third… was there a third rule? Oh yeah! Any humans found on campus will be executed. Any questions?"

Tsukune stayed calm and surveyed the situation. While most in this situation would get incredibly stressed, or even hyperventilate, giving themselves away, Tsukune had always been a man of calm and rational thinking. 'What have I gotten myself into now?' First it was Julia, then...' his train of thought slowed down for a minute, his face taught and serious. Eventually he shook himself out of his trance. 'Shouldn't be thinking about that, specially not now.' he thought.

Then, a voice to his left spoke up, "Sensei, why don't we eat the humans and molest the pretty girls?" said a thug to his left. He was large, and was sending a lecherous grin towards the pink-haired girl.

Miss Nekonome responded "Because Mr… Komiya-san," she leafed through her register before stating his name, "That would reveal our existence to the world, and then we'd get blown off the face of the earth!" she stated in her ill-fitting happy tone. "Any more questions?" No one raised their hands.

"Well, since you just arrived, you have the rest of the day off!"Nekonome-sensei said."Class dismissed!"

 _-What Have I Gotten Myself Into Now?-_

Tsukune was sat in his room, reviewing his choices. If he stayed here he was risking everything. But if he left…

He stared holes into a piece of paper sticking out one of his bag's pockets.

'Might as well play something to pass the time and calm down.' He thought.

Tsukune reached for his guitar case and retrieved the acoustic. After thinking for a moment, he decided he needed to just play something easy and simple, so he launched into his number;

 _It's All Over Now Baby Blue – Bob Dylan_

 _ **You must leave now, take what you need, you think will last**_

The first line rang out, just loud enough to be heard over the din of the rest of the male dorms. His voice had that same tone as his voice, sandpaper, with a touch of honeyed velvet and something indescribable in the mix.

 _ **But whatever you wish to keep, you better grab it fast  
Yonder stands your orphan with his gun  
Crying like a fire in the sun  
Look out the saints are comin' through  
And it's all over now, baby bl-**_

Tsukune's door creaked open, and a foot came through the doorway. There stood a man, roughly about 6 ft tall. He had pitch-black hair, held up by a red bandana.

He began to talk. "Hey, um, sorry to interrupt, but could you pipe down a bit? You were shouting there." Tsukune raised his hand up in a form of apology. "I apologise. Got a little out of hand there." he replied. "Ah, no worries. You'll soon learn how loud this place can be. A little guitar normally doesn't make out your door. It's just that everyone's tired from the trip back from home, so everyone's napping and relaxing. If you could play something a little quieter, That would be great." Said the young man. Tsukune nodded his head. "Sure thing. Thanks for the heads up. See you later." The young man smiled in thanks, turned round, and just before he left, said, "My name's Gin by the way. Gin Morioka." Tsukune looked up. "Tsukune Aono." He said curtly. " See you around then Tsukune Gin said as he left the dorm room. 'I feel like I'll be seeing a lot more of him in the coming days.' Tsukune thought.

'Well, something quieter, eh?' Tsukune leafed through his notes. His face lit up when he found something. He sat back and started to prime himself.

 _Jeffrey Lewis – Chelsea Hotel Oral Sex Song_

 _Walkin' up 23rd Street,_

 _I was tired and alone..._


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: I just wanted to say, in this fic Tsukune is left handed. I know it's a strange and maybe an unnecessary detail, but believe me as a left handed guitarist myself, your handedness comes to define you in many ways. While I personally have had no qualms in the past to just get a guitar flipped or to do so myself, these guitars were often quick fixes to a problem. A gig or a show that I had the next day, and I just needed something to play. All of my most treasured guitars are true left handed or ambidextrous (same no matter how its been flipped). As for Tsukune's guitar I've decided to give him a 1915 Gibson L-4, also known as the first left handed guitar ever. The reason behind this eclectic decision is a mixture of story and practical reasoning. The history behind Tsukune's acquisition of the instrument will be explained later on, but the practical side of this choice is the nature of the guitar. Based on pictures I've seen the guitar seems incredibly rugged and durable, necessary for someone like Tsukune, who, as you will see, values practicality and durability over popularity or convenience. As for why the back of such an incredibly important guitar has that Long Live scratching, Tsukune doesn't care. To him history is important, but not as much as its affect on him. He values that guitar due to his personal connection to it, not due to its historical importance.

Anyway, thank you for listening to this incredibly long note, especially if you have no interest in guitars. On with the story.

 **Disclaimer**

I Kaien Crosszeria, do not, in any way, shape, or form, own any rights, properties or royalties of Bob Dylan, Rosario + Vampire, or any other artist, musical or otherwise. All rights, properties, or royalties belong to their respective owners. This Fanfiction may also contain typographical errors.

Chapter 2; The Oddest Things

Tsukune was sat on his futon, a copy of Trainspotting in his hands. His cassette player, a tough little thing made from metal, was currently blaring The Stooges' Funhouse from its external speaker. The shoebox full of cassettes lay next to his futon, along with his boots and a small stack of novels.

Tsukune's eyes roamed the page hungrily before he turned it. The novel, once seemingly impossible to read due to the transcription of the character's often thick Scottish accent, had almost become second nature, and he did so with incredible ease.

Gin had not been lying when he had said that the dorms where raucous more often than not. His cassette player was almost at max volume and he could just about hear the whole mix over the din.

He was three weeks into the school year, and it was a whole lot more ordinary than he had first anticipated. Classes were regular topics taught in human schools, so he wasn't lost academically speaking, and other than the initial shock of seeing his dorm mates unconscious overnight transformations and the occasionally disgusting dietary requirement, the fact that the people around him weren't human rarely ever crossed his mind.

His head suddenly snapped up when a note was slipped under his door. He bookmarked the page and got up to retrieve the note. It was written on what looked like standard notebook paper, if a little thicker maybe. _Tsukune Aono_ was neatly written in cursive. He opened the note and read…

 _Mr. Aono,_

 _Based on a mixture of your musical taste and prowess, along with your behaviour and demeanour in your day to day activities, myself and my associates have deigned it fit to inform you of a particular location on the school campus, located near the old rail station. Access is only available from 21:00 until 4:30. We hope to see you tonight. Bring your guitar._

The note was unsigned. Tsukune let the note fall to the floor as he turned and headed towards his window, pulling the curtains closed. He locked his door and took the dorm phone of the hook before turning to his duffel bag. He pulled out its contents, and reached deep down into the bottom the bag. There was an incredibly soft click and Tsukune quickly pulled out the false bottom. He looked down at the two large leather cases, Sheathed knife, and smaller blade, along with a bag and a beaten up cardboard box. He retrieved the smaller leather case, along with the shorter blade and the cardboard box. A week after learning the school's true nature, he had contacted a friend back in the human world to send a particular set of his belongings across two packages in order to arouse less suspicion. The nature of at least half of these belonging became apparent once Tsukune opened the leather case. A Navy Colt, sharply shined along with six quick loaders greeted his eye. He swiftly began to fill the quick loaders with the .44 magnum bullets that filled the box. He then loaded the gun itself, leaving a slot in the revolving chamber empty as a safety. He then moved onto the blade. It looked like a standard military survival knife, if a little smaller than the regular model. He checked it for damage before sheathing and hiding the knife in his jacket's large inside pockets. The gun and a single quick loader followed suit. He then put the ammo box and the leather case back in his duffel bag.

Although he had no wish to hurt anyone, the fact that he was surrounded by monsters made him seek out protection. Although he doubted even the bigger piece, still untouched in the hidden compartment of his bag, would do much to any monster stronger than a B-Class, he would probably be able to take them down with him, or at least severely damage them. The fact that he now seemed to have a group watching him had just pushed to carrying. Oh, well. No point dwelling on it now. He put the phone back on the hook and pulled the curtains back, but left the door locked. Friday was a half-day, so classes would start at 12:30. He changed into the dreaded uniform, leaving the ugly green blazer out before shrugging on his jacket, picking up his book bag and leaving the room, with nothing but the click of the door being locked from the outside, and light footsteps down the hall signalling his departure.

 _- We Hope To See You Tonight-_

It was now homeroom, and after Nekonome's standard fumbling she then revealed the afternoon's purpose.

"After homeroom, I shall be taking you down to the sports field so you can pick a recreational club to join! This is madatory, as it is meant to encourage easier integration into human society. No exceptions!"

'Damn it,' thought Tsukune angrily, 'I was going to scope out the old rail station with my binoculars, see what kind of an environment it is. Guess that idea's out the window.'

"Come along now class!" chirped Ms. Nekonome, "to the field!"

 _-The Afternoon's Purpose-_

The field, usually empty, was now filled with all kinds of stalls. However, as he looked down the list he had been handed, one club caught his eye. 'The Newspaper Club… Would be useful to have the press by my side, and it would be a good way to establish a view of the political landscape in the Academy. That'll do nicely.' With his mind made up, he headed out towards the newspaper's HQ.

 _-That'll do nicely-_

The Youkai Gazette was founded by Gin Morioka and a now deceased friend of his back in his freshman year. They had once been the main newspaper until the introduction of the Board-run "Academy Telegraph" who had more support from the student body. Barely anyone joined the club any more due to its smeared reputation and odd status in the school power dynamic. So imagine Gin's surprise when that oddball guitarist, Tsukune Aono, came to join.

"You know, no offence intended, but I thought you would have been more at home in the music club." Gin joked. Tsukune smiled and replied "I gave it some thought, but the newspaper club and the political landscape in general matter to me far more than discussing the finer works of Beethoven. Beethoven is good, but not my favourite." Gin chuckled, "Agreed. Anyway, the club starts after school on Tuesdays, Wednesdays and Fridays, but the room and its facilities are always open." Tsukune stuck out his hand. "I can see this as the start of a beautiful relationship." "Agreed, bud," Gin replied, "Agreed."

 _-The Start of A Beautiful Relationship-_

Tsukune arrived back in his room, his mail in his hand, freshly collected from his box in the lobby. He kicked his shoes off, closed the door and put his jacket on the back of the chair before he sat down and looked at the apartment offers. In the small metropolis that was Youkai Academy, a student could look for accommodation outside the dorms, which was Tsukune's intention. He threw the ads on the desk. He changed into combat jeans, a flannel shirt and his leather boots. He pulled the large Bowie knife out the false compartment along with the large leather case and the felt case. He opened the case and retrieved the contents.

The Little Big Gun. Baby Bertha. The Shorty. The worn sawed-off shotgun was soon loaded with 12-gauge shells from the felt bag. The holster, fashioned from a patch of leather and a belt, was soon strapped to his hip, along with the Bowie knife on his leg. He checked his watch. 19:00. Enough time to scope out the station. He left and soon locked the door. 'No more surprises,' he thought, 'time to get to the bottom of this.'


End file.
